Ghost in the Mind
by Gater101
Summary: OneShot. Three times he's had to say goodbye to her. He's not sure he can do it again.


**Title**: Ghost in the Mind  
**Summary**: Three times he's had to say goodbye to her. He's not sure he can do it again.  
**Characters**: John, Teyla & Weir/FRAN  
**Pairing**: Sheppard-Weir, Sheppard-Teyla friendship  
**Rating**: PG  
**Spoilers:** Season 5, _Ghost in the Machine_

_Ghost in the Mind_

"You did the right thing."

He turns to her as she steps out onto the balcony. Her arms are absent of her child and for a brief moments, he is glad. He's not sure he can deal with that as well.

"_Wait, you're not saying John Sheppard is-"_

If she'd been Elizabeth Weir, she would know that question hadn't needed voiced. That she did, to someone other than him, hurt more than he cared to let on. Since Elizabeth had been gone, he'd reconciled himself with some things – that she was never coming back was primary amongst them. That she had was a shock, that it wasn't _Elizabeth _even more so. It was a pain he'd long thought dormant, suppressed so far down that it was inaccessible.

Then she'd looked at him, spoken to him and it had all been blown out of the water.

_Inflections so familiar in a voice that was not her own. It was more than he could handle, so he left. He didn't think he could go back._

"I know," he says quietly, studying her fingers.

She is quiet beside him and John is glad. Teyla had been his friend since the beginning; they know one another. More than Rodney ever could, more than she let any of her people try to. Even Kanaan.

The city, spread beyond them like a sparkling jewel on the sea, thrums with power but the usual link John has to the city is dormant. He's almost glad. He sighs, his breath fanning out before him, mingling with Teyla's as she looks up to the sky. He follows her vision but the grey clouds cover the inky sky, blocking the stars from their eyes.

"Do you think...?"

The thought voiced is unfinished but John knows what she means. It has been his thought too. Was it really Elizabeth Weir?

"I don't know," he says on a breath some moments later. He glances at her from the corner of his eye and she nods. It's true; no proof one way or another and despite the fact that she _knew _stuff, it didn't make her Elizabeth Weir. There was much she didn't know – like needing to ask about Teyla's son, her almost hurt eyes as she'd looked upon him after watching Teyla leave. Elizabeth Weir, the one they'd known for almost four years, got his friendship with Teyla. "I hope not."

He can sense her frown but he doesn't look to her and when he tilts his eyes up to the sky, he knows she understands.

"You did the right thing," she reiterates and he shakes his head, feeling a weight in his chest as he opens his mind to the knowledge of what he'd done.

"Doesn't make it any easier."

She touches his arm, her warm hand covering his wrist and he looks to where their skin meets; warm brown against his fading tan. He closes his eyes as they meet hers. He doesn't want to have to deal with the compassion there. Instead, he turns back to the bleak horizon and waits patiently for the pain to ease.

"I contacted my people," she says, her tone placid and John turns to her slightly, questioning. "They do not expect me until late morning."

He smiles, grateful and nudges her with his shoulder, almost feeling lighter. He breathes out a breath and it is swept away on a gust of wind.

"How's Torren?" He asks after some time, when the clouds have dispersed and the horizon is a tawny brown. "Is he sleeping better?"

He can feel her smile. He'll admit that he's not taken as keen an interest in his namesake as he should. And he feels guilty about that.

"He is well." She turns to him slightly, her eyes alight with a warmth he has never seen. He smiles slightly at that. "He sleeps better here than off world, Kanaan tells me, but I cannot deprive my people of him."

John smiles down to her and nods.

"This is his home."

She returns the smile and turns back to the horizon, nodding.

"It has become a home for many." John nods and mirrors her pose. "She will understand."

John shrugs; he doesn't know what else to do. She may well have understood but she hadn't been given the choice. She never would.

As the sun rose, the warm strands of gold heating their faces, John sighs.

Three times he's had to say goodbye to her. He almost wishes that he never has to see her again. Because he's not sure he can say goodbye again.


End file.
